


I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck

by Dractonis



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Break Up, Emotional, M/M, Misunderstandings, Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dractonis/pseuds/Dractonis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy moves on, Novak doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and did not happen, no implication is intended in regards to the real people involved.
> 
> I am very sorry for writing this. I would never read something like this so yeah, it just happened.

 

“Why did you think this was a good idea?” 

Are the first words Novak hears when he steps out of his temporary abode, a hastily arranged hotel in Scotland. They meet in Glasgow, Novak making the journey because he’s the one that requested this, because Andy would have never travelled to Monte Carlo, or Serbia. They meet on Andy’s terms.

He asked himself the same question over and over on the long journey here until the words lost meaning in his mind. Why did he think this was a good idea? He didn’t, truthfully, but he pursued it anyway, because that’s what he does. Rash, impulsive. Everything Andy used to love. He carried on asking himself the question as he changed his outfit numerous times in front of the hotel mirror, styling and re-styling his hair until he received a brisk text announcing Andy’s arrival.

Andy who is resting on the curb outside, dishevelled and rough and looking like he hasn’t slept a night all season. His boots scuff the ground as he mutters the words, staring hard at the concrete ground and refusing to raise his glance to Novak.

“I missed you.” Novak says simply, like the words can simultaneously shatter and solve all of their problems. Andy just laughs emptily, wry grin as he looks into the air and drags himself up from the ground, bottle dropping loose from his grip.

He turns, gaze still avoiding the Serb and begins to walk along the pavement in the opposite direction, shrugging his distressed leather jacket over his shoulders. Novak starts and shuffles to get in step beside him, thumbing the pocket of his jeans awkwardly as he fights the strain of wanting to reach out and hold Andy’s hand.

His insides burn when he reconciles that Andy’s hand isn’t his to hold anymore, never really was. They’ve known each other so long and yet they are walking through the city outskirts (away from the rushed city streets), as strangers.

The feeling isn’t mutual, Andy is a stranger to him but one he loves in earnest. Novak doesn’t know what he means to Andy anymore but there is nothing but indifference and mild irritation in Andy’s hooded gaze. Like Novak owes him for gracing him with his presence on this excursion.

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Andy finally speaks up.

“So, where do you want to go?”

Novak panics because this isn’t his home, he doesn’t know Scotland, he doesn’t know this city. He’s acutely aware of time looming over his head, ticking down the moments he has left with Andy before he gets fed up and leaves him alone again, condemning him to his solitude fate. In his panic he spots a quiet coffee shop along the other end of the street. “Coffee?” He smiles weakly, pointing in the general direction of the small saviour.

“Ok.” Andy concedes, and they move together over the cobbled pavements. They manage to order their drinks quietly enough, only signing a few autographs before being ushered to a private sitting. Andy pays for their drinks, he doesn’t know what to make of that. They’re both millionaires but the naive part of Novak clings onto the hope that Andy buying him a drink somehow indicates that he still loves him.

They’ve exchanged only a few sentences since meeting until Andy speaks again, asking him what he’s been up to. He’s thought about this, planned every word he was going to say to Andy and yet now his mouth is dry, throat parched so he gulps his coffee and scalds it in an effort to speak. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, eyes wide accompanied by strangled sounds coming from his throat. The looming clock is back and Andy has that look in his eyes, fierce and intent on Novak. Angry.

“You haven’t seen me in two months and you have nothing to say to me?”

Novak clenches his eyes tight and laughs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No… I have so much to say, I just… What do you want from me? What do you think I’ve been doing, how do you think I’ve been doing? Just fine you know, are you kidding.”

Andy’s eyes are black, uncaring, hard. Novak doesn’t detect an ounce of love and that scares him more than anything, when he remembers the glitter of affection that used to reside in those depths when he stood before Andy.

He can feel his throat closing up, the pain coating his neck all the warning he needs to know that he’s one more stony look from falling apart right there in a homely, Glaswegian coffee shop. His chest is hammering in an effort to hold back the barrage of tears he feels at the edge of his awareness, then he remembers his promise to Andy, one of the terms to their meeting.

> Novak: Can I see you? Please, I just need to see you in person. I need to know why.

Then sometime later.

> Andy: I will meet you for a drink. I will let you know where nearer the time.
> 
> Novak: Thank you.
> 
> Andy: Just don’t do anything stupid.
> 
> Novak: Like what?
> 
> Andy: Like making a scene.
> 
> Novak: Lol, that why you’re meeting me in a public place - scared I’ll kill you?
> 
> Andy: Something like that.

 

He had promised Andy that he wouldn’t make a scene, so he wipes away the stray tear that is rolling down his cheekbone and glances up to the ceiling. Needs to looks skywards because gravity is betraying him. This way the tears just pool around in his eyes, blurring his vision. He coughs before responding, giving Andy a spiel about the mundane things he’s been up to before asking the same question.

Andy has no qualms about answering him, detailing the sordid details of his affairs, drinking, nights out. He slept with someone else.

Novak used to read stories about unrequited love, used to watch the soaps on TV and wonder why the other party remained in love, desiring the other when they were clearly uninterested and uncaring. Now he understands. Understands what it’s like to be in love with someone that has moved on. 

Despite this, he’d had in mind two outcomes to this meeting, two things that he’d accept as a way to finally give up on Andy. These were Andy admitting, honest and literally, that he doesn’t love Novak anymore, or Andy finding someone else. Yet even as he assured himself of these unspoken contracts he finds this latest revelation changes nothing about the way he feels for Andy.

He still loves him. He knows he’s deluded as he finds himself thinking of telling Andy it’s ok, that they can move on from this, he forgives him. If he were his friend, witnessing this from an external view he’d be shaking himself at his stupidity and complete disregard for self-respect and dignity.

Novak bites his quivering lip, trying to speak but voice breaking on his words, as he looks around the coffee shop pretending to be interested by the vague, artistic coffee beans adoring the interior. Andy is completely neutral apart from the occasional movement of a denim knee, picking at his sandwich.

Novak felt too sick with nerves to eat, opting for a small latte in contrast to Andy’s sandwich, cake and tea. Andy offered him half of the cake, another gesture which Novak hopelessly added to the “he loves me” column of his broken love story. Actions speak louder than words, right?

He slept with someone, that’s an action.

But he told you about it, those are words.

Novak knows he’s losing it when his mind reels off to consider that Andy is fabricating this tale to gauge his reaction, that perhaps this entire thing is just a test to assess Novak’s true feelings. Did he pass, in coming here? Did he do the right thing?

He can’t hold it in anymore as he finally spills out the question that has directed his life for the last three weeks.

“Why? Why did you leave me?”

Andy doesn’t answer straight away, nonchalantly finishing his sandwich off and rubbing his hands together before giving his patent shrug of the shoulders, always looking through Novak, not at him. “Because, things just weren’t working anymore.”

“What does that mean…?” Novak’s emotions are in shreds, breathing ragged as he tries to regain control. Fingernails grip the table sharply as he holds on for Andy’s response, needing something, something to finally make him realise what’s happening so he can move on with his life. His life that has been on hold ever since Andy told him it was over.

“You changed, I changed. We don’t work together anymore, you must have seen it, must have known this was coming?” Andy looks bemused at this reality because no, Novak didn’t see it coming. At all.

“No, I loved you. I love you. I thought you loved me.”

“Yeah well, people change, shit happens.”

Novak can barely comprehend what’s happening as every declaration he fires at Andy is returned so coldly. They go on like this for three hours, slipping into a space more casually by the end, a sort of bittersweet departure as the waiter wishes them a “good day.”

Novak came here for answers and for closure, but he’s left with even more unanswered questions as he and Andy stand outside of his hotel together. His hotel that Andy walked him back to, out of politeness or obligation he doesn’t know, but he adds it to the reasons of why Andy may still love him anyway. Desperate times.

They’re talking about something nonsensical as they wait at traffic lights before Novak comments about how pathetic it is that this will be their last ever conversation, outside of work. Andy gives him a calculating look before adding that it doesn’t have to be. His feelings regarding Novak have been more than apparent all afternoon but now he’s back to sending mixed signals.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, is that what you want, to never see me again?”

“No.” Novak mutters brokenly, following Andy across the road to his hotel.

They stop outside and for a brief moment something in Andy’s eyes melts. The facade he’s been wearing as he distanced himself from Nole breaking when he takes in the complete desolation in Novak’s eyes, like his existence depends on every move Andy makes. He embraces him, slowly. Novak isn’t sure how to react, all he knows is he’s needed this for so long. These arms, this warmth, his scent.

He falls into the embrace, tortures himself and lets his body take indulgence in what will probably be the last time he will experience this comfort. He feels like home, Novak has been lost and now he is found as Andy mutters into his bristled hair how sorry he is, for everything. This isn’t the Andy that drank coffee with him, this is his Andy.

It’s over too soon as they pull away, conscious of being seen like this in public. Novak licks his lips, wetting them and gazing at Andy’s as he’s tempted to lean in and kiss them. Andy must sense it because he gives a gentle shake of the head and takes a step back, a pained look in his eyes as he feigns interest elsewhere. 

“Am I ever going to see you again, like this?” Novak’s voice quivers.

Andy takes a while to respond before nodding.

“Are you lying to me?” Novak senses he is, but Andy reinforces his earlier affirmation. It brings a small comfort before he gives Andy one last hug. Andy lets go reluctantly as Novak turns around and walks away into his hotel, not looking back lest Andy see the tears that are now falling freely from his eyes.

He pushes his way into the hotel elevator, jamming floor number five. He barely contains his breakdown until he reaches his room where he sprawls across his bed like a child and screams. Hands claw his face, he rolls around like an animal in excruciating pain and he kicks his legs up and down like a child throwing a tantrum. He hyperventilates and goes feint at some point, exhausted and emotionally drained as the anguish drips from his body but is still endlessly permeating his soul, unshaken.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, just that he’s woken up hours later and the city lights are bright from between the tilted metal blinds. The landscape is beautiful tonight. He observes the towering structures littering the streets, high rise offices and magnificent architecture. He drinks in the darkened, clouded skies and seems to come to a conclusion.

Rolling over from dampened sheets, from sweat or tears, he doesn’t know. It doesn’t take him long to find his phone, tossed carelessly towards the other end of the large bed.

> Novak: What are you doing?
> 
> Andy: Nothing.
> 
> Novak: Do you want to see me again before I go?
> 
> Andy: Yes.

Novak allows himself a small smile, the traitorous bubble of hope rising up again before being burst unceremoniously by reality.

> Andy: But I can’t.
> 
> Novak: You want to but you can’t? I don’t understand.
> 
> Andy: It isn’t a good idea. All you will be doing is torturing yourself.

Novak wants to type back that he will feel bad no matter what he does, that Andy has ruined him, that he doesn’t want to go back home, doesn’t want to face his life, doesn’t want to move on. Instead he stays silent before his phone buzzes in warning.

> Andy: What did you expect to happen?
> 
> Novak: I thought I would get more time with you.
> 
> Andy: At least you got three hours and I didn’t slam the door in your face.
> 
> Novak: Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’m worth right? Three hours. I don’t even know why I want to see you, you have ruined everything. I am sending you everything back that you gave me.
> 
> Andy: Keep them.
> 
> Novak: No. Fuck you!
> 
> Andy: What do you want from me?
> 
> Novak: Years of my life back, for you to not exist, for me to not exist. To come and see me before I leave because I don’t know what will happen when I go back home.

The tears have returned with a vengeance by the time Novak has typed out the last hasty message. He rubs at his eyes angrily before pocketing his phone, leaving the hotel room without bothering to grab his keys as he takes the elevator to the top floor, quickly finding the concealed entrance to the rooftop.

He feels his phone buzz but doesn’t check the message immediately. The sight that greets him when he enters onto the roof is incredible. Lights everywhere, blurred and merged by the water pooling his eyes into one glittering skyline. The Scottish air is crisp, body shivering as the wind nips at his skin. He steps towards the edge, looking down instead at the street below him.

Bearings gathered, he finally checks his phone.

> Andy: What do you mean you don’t know what will happen?
> 
> Novak: Not coming to see me then?
> 
> Andy: Novak… please don’t do this to me.

Novak is smiling now. He is finished, he is through.

> Novak: Do what? I like how you expect me to spare you when you’ve ruined me, how selfless do you think I can be?
> 
> Andy: I haven’t ruined you.
> 
> Novak: Goodbye Andy.

Novak lets the device fall from his hand, expects it to billow in the wind but it’s a deadweight prior to terminal velocity, swiftly clattering to pieces on the ground below. Novak lifts a foot from the ledge, gives a last heartbroken smile to the city before him and takes a blind step. He follows.

He didn’t get to read the last message his phone received before it shattered to pieces, reminiscent of his own life ended.

> Andy: I love you.


End file.
